


You've got a lot to learn.

by b_kolacki



Category: Beydan - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 02:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_kolacki/pseuds/b_kolacki
Summary: i love my gay friend, who shall remain nameless......but who just soo happens to have a birthday...on may 13th





	You've got a lot to learn.

It’s Jordan’s day off and Beyoncé can’t drag him out of bed for anything. Maybe a house fire but she doesn’t have the heart for arson so she’s settled for sitting in his lap and using teamwork to clean out an entire package of oreos while watching Jerry Springer.

A woman in skimpy clothing is surprising her longtime boyfriend for their anniversary with a lap dance. Beyoncé likes that idea and she files it away for an emergency last minute birthday gift if she can’t think of anything else. They’re highschool sweethearts apparently, it’s hard to tell if they’re actors or real people, but it does make her curious.

She pauses licking the filling out of her oreo and reaches over her shoulder to slap Jordan’s head lazily because it’s contagious, “Hey Jordy?”

 He takes the wet cookie from her and bites it, humming in response.

 “What were you like in college?”

 He snorts. “Uh? An asshole.”

 “Really?” She tries to picture that.

 “I wasn’t mean or anything, I was just obnoxious and-,” he waves his hand about flimsily, “Got high all the time.”

 She gives him a humorous look, “What’s different now?”

 His smile is lazy and charming. “I’m functioning.”

 “Your sisters said you were sensitive.” They’d been married almost six months and his sisters had begun to come around to the idea of her being in their lives, mostly because she relentlessly pursued every opportunity to bond with them over their brother.

 He cranes his neck around to look at her, trying to see if she was serious. “You talk to my sisters?”

 “And your mom.” Not his dad, he wasn’t nice enough to Jordan to ever get on her good side.

 His voice is unsettled as he looks. “...Okay, I guess I was sensitive.”

 “That’s so cute.” She stretches out the vowels and tilts her head back to get a proper look at him.

 He’s still uneasy. “Have you been asking about me?”

 “I ask sometimes ‘cause I love you and I’m curious.”

 He holds another blonde cookie up to her so she can eat out the filling. “About?”

 “What it’d be like if I met you back then. If we’d like each other still.”

 She wonders about that a lot, especially after they’d gone through a few photo albums and found out they’d been to the same amusement park roughly the same week when she was 18, competing in pageants. Chances are they never came anywhere close to each other but the romantic in her wouldn’t let her let go of the idea of them meeting under different circumstances.

 “I’d call you a baby.”

 She rolls her eyes and moves off his lap. “No, like, Disney World, if we met then, you think you’d like me?”

 “Probably.”

 “You don’t sound convinced.”

 “I liked you the moment I saw you I just don’t think you’d like me. I had a puffy ass mullet and a thin ass porno mustache.”

 She squints. “Remembering how I was, I wouldn’t mind.”

 He laughs, cheeks turning a pale pink. “I wore like, pens behind my ear to make myself look smarter and I’d cut my shirts in half.” She wished, desperately for a picture besides the one in his yearbook.

 “Did you have your earring then?”

 “Both ears and my tongue was pierced.”

 Before Jordan can fall deeper into sweet recollection she’s whacking him hard with a pillow. “And your ass wasn’t gonna tell me?” She demands.

 “Fuck no, you’d want me to put it back, it was ugly and I think it got infected.”

 “Pussy.”

 “You say that but would you marry a man with no tongue?”

 “I’d respect the way he lost it.”

 He nudges her. “Your turn.' 

“I wore a bunch of denim and big shirts and door-knocker earrings. I couldn’t get my tongue pierced, my mom would’ve _killed_ me.”

 “Pussy.”

 “Have you met my mother? Imagine her dressed like Salt n Pepa and extra aggressive because she’s dieting and taking an aerobics class.”

 He shrugs “That’s fair.”

 “I wanna say I was the same when I met you as when I was like 18, but I was slightly more rebellious, not actively, but I wanted to be. I just never had the chance.”

 “That’s ‘cause your boyfriend was a square.”

 “I was just, like one bad wind away from like...trying crack.”

 He chokes. “It’s good you met me then, cause I’m a good person to try it with. Not crack, but you get me.”

“I get that you’re a crackhead.”

 “You’re not funny.”

 “I’m hilarious.”

 He tilts her chin towards him and pecks her on the lips. “I’d be in love with you, Miss Teen Houston 1988.”

* * *

 

Beyoncé has a theory that “family time” is an elaborate scheme put together by her mother to suck any ounce of joy she may experience in her young life. Her father's been away for years now and Tina’s plan to compensate for his absence? Become a full fledged dictator with a fun voice.

_Have fun, Beyoncé-but only in this super specific way that I deem acceptable._

_You’re an adult now, Beyoncé-except for when I wanna tell you how to look and act and think._

_Let’s go to Disney World, it’s your trip but I’m gonna stick you by your immature ass sister and make you do what she wants because she’s young._

She has news for her mother: 15 year olds are not fucking children and just because Solange can instantly fake tears, it doesn’t make her a baby. Tina doesn’t care about them having sister time; she wants to go shopping with her own sister while using Solange as a mole.

 Beyoncé’s trying not to lose her in the crowd but Solange refuses to walk faster than a snail's pace and every second with the sun beating down on her, Beyoncé edges closer to losing her patience. She’s beginning to think that maybe letting her get kidnapped would not be such a bad thing.

 Solange pushes Beyoncé in the arm. “Stop walking so fast.”

 “Keep up then.”

 “You let me get lost and mama’s gonna beat your ass.”

 “Wait ‘till I tell her you’re cussing.”

“Wait ‘till she finds out where I learned it.”

Beyoncé stops in her tracks,“Pick a damn ride.”

 Solange looks around the park, unrelenting sun in her eyes and immediately goes for the first indoor ride she sees. She points towards the long line. “There.”

“‘It’s A Small World’? What are you five?”

 “I’m sweating, that’s what I am, and you’re musty.” She pushes past her, running ahead to get in line.”

 Beyoncé groans picking up into a jog to keep close.

“You know what Solange? The next time you make me run in this heat I’m gonna trap you in a box and ship you to the goddamn Saha-,” She pauses, realizing Solange had been in conversation with another girl and an older boy, a cute one. “-And scene. Thank you for helping me practice my lines for the play that I am definitely in.”

Solange rolls her eyes and Beyoncé gets why her mom would threaten to ‘roll them for her’ before. It still made no sense but she got the feeling.

“Anyways, hello, I’m Beyoncé, Miss Teen Houston two years running.” She extends a sweaty hand towards him and he accepts it.

”I’m just Jordan.”

She laughs harder than the joke deserves. “I’m sure you’re a little more than just Jordan.”

The girl next to him introduces herself as his sister and Beyoncé can’t be too bothered to remember her name.

He moves one of the posts meant to contain the line, that he’s definitely not supposed to touch and leans against the brick wall. “What play exactly?”

“Huh?”

“The play you’re definitely in.” The way his eyes squeeze tight when he laughs makes her lightheaded.

“It’s an untitled piece.”

Solange pipes up. “She’s playing the half ape sister.”

“You’re gonna be playing a dead one.”

Jordan reaches into his pocket and hands Solange a fifty and another to his sister. “Stick together and I’ll double it.”

Solange is suddenly capable of being mature then. “You got it.”

He turns away from them and back to Beyoncé. “So you were saying you’re from Houston?”

“Never lived anywhere else.”

“New York.”

If Beyoncé was outside of her body she’d rolls her eyes over how silly she was acting towards a boy she’d just met. “That’s amazing.”

 “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” His hair spills messily through the opening of his baseball cap and sticks to his forehead. She wants to run her fingers through it.

 She crosses her arms trying to hide her pit stains. “Still. I’ve never been.”

“Yeah? You ever wanna visit I’m your guy..”

 She giggles and ignores the look of disgust she gets from Solange.  

 His sister speaks up. “He’s barely there. He’s in boston now.” 

His eyes narrow as he ignores her and  checks Beyoncé out, blatantly, “You’re really Miss Houston?”

“Teen Miss Houston .”

“So that makes you how old?”

 “18, or in other words, on my way out.”

“You’re not going for Miss USA?”

 “I’m retiring with my dignity.”

 “That’s respectable.” The line moves and he takes her by the hand. She remembers the Minnie Mouse ears on her and feels ridiculous.

 He stops her from taking them off. “You look adorable.”

 It takes a while before they get on the ride and he sits close to her in the boat while their sisters talk about clothes. He dunks his hand underwater to cool off faster and puts his other arm around her waist, confident enough that if she wasn’t so hyper focused on everything he did she wouldn’t have noticed.

 “You okay?”

Her voice trembles slightly. “I’m fine.”

“This isn’t one of those scary rides.” He talks slow, the way boys at home do but without the drawl. It’s clear and weighted, like whatever he says will be important.

“I know.” She says sheepishly.

“I’ll still hold your hand through it, if you want.”

She nearly dies on the spot but manages to nod. “It’d help.”

They turn a corner, and he nuzzles his face into her neck. Beyoncé compares him to the sort-of ex boyfriend from home that she’s been ducking, trying to ease into the breakup, already established in her mind. She’s only known Jordan for a little while but he’s already showing to be more her speed.  Faster than her speed, in honesty, and it’s exhilarating just being near him. She feels more like the adult her mother’s been desperately trying to keep her from being.

She learns more about him, mostly talking to keep from sucking face in public. He’s 19, a Virgo like she is, they disagree on things like ice cream flavors and pizza toppings but she likes that about him. He doesn’t agree just to suck up but he doesn’t shy away from compliments.

“You know,” he says while the singing puppets wave international flags, “You have the nicest smile I’ve ever seen.”

“I was gonna say that about you.”

He’s in his third year at Harvard, wearing the torn shirt to prove it, and this is his break. He chose to take his mom and sisters to Florida because he remembers loving it when he was a kid and wants to recreate that feeling.

“Where’s your dad?” She asks and knows it’s kind of rude but he can’t be too many places worse than where hers is.

“Working or cheating on my mother.” He kisses her temple, letting her rest against him and tracing the outer shell of her ear with his fingertip, absentmindedly. No real emotion put into his statement and Beyoncé can relate to being desensitized in that way.

“Mines in jail.”

“Did he do it?”

She likes not being asked what it is he did, and that it seems like Jordan won’t care or use it to frame how he sees her. “He did.”

“You miss him?”

 “Do you miss yours?”

 He grins. “No.”

“There’s your answer.”

 They like a lot of the same music, only he’s met a lot of the people she listens to. His mother’s friends with Cher, he has Daryl Hall’s guitar pick pinned to a jacket in his suitcase.

“I wanna see it.” She says as he climbs out of the small boat.

“Now?”

“Yeah, cause I think you’re lying.”

He reaches in and helps her out, then Solange, his sister slaps his hand away. “I’m no liar.”

“If I don’t see it I’ll think you’re lying.”

“And we can’t have that.”

 “So, I think it’s in your best interest to take me to it.”

He walks them to his car, the keys to a convertible BMW, dangling from his hand and Beyoncé resists the temptation to climb his back and feel at his broad shoulders.

He lets her use the phone inside it to call home and ask her mother to not pick them up. It’s embarrassing for both her and Solange, passing the phone back and forth to take turns explaining what’s going on. Tina’s right to be suspicious, they’re lying their asses off but it’s still annoying that they’re not given credit for being trustworthy until this point.

Jordan ducks his head into the car to feel the air conditioning, a thin gold chain dangling from his neck.

It reminds Beyoncé to stay focused on the goal at hand, she lies a little more elaborately, Jordan and his sister are now girls she recognizes from pageants. The younger ones hit it off and they’re pretty tired so they’re gonna get dropped off back at the hotel. Which was for most part true, plus Solange wanted to show off the music collection she didn’t leave the house without.

It takes Solange getting on the line begging for Tina to cave, they hang up and Jordan gives out high fives, demands that everyone besides him wear a seatbelt , and pulls out of the maze-like parking lot.  

 Beyoncé is the one who jogs them upstairs to the room she and Solange share and then she stops by to reassure her mother she’s alive and rule following. She brings a change of clothes in her backpack and the elevator can’t get her down those four floors fast enough.

Jordan’s car is pulled around back, his shirt is sopping wet and over his knee, not on him where it should be. She has to calm herself down to prevent flailing in her seat because that’s not what mature adult women do.

“I sweat a lot.” He offers, apologetically and she keeps from lunging at him, kissing his cheek instead.

“You’re fine.” 

He grazes his thumbs over her chin sweetly and she touches her lips to his for the first time and it feels righteous. Not morally, this is, so far, the worst thing she’s done but even that’s fun. She never felt so grown before, never this boundless.

He pushes the speed limit, the wind blowing through her hair while she counts the orange-themed billboards and he squeezes her hand. “You hungry?”

“I could go for ice cream.” 

“Let’s see if I can find a place.” He drives like an impatient asshole but she doesn’t mind, he looks sexy while he does it.

 They stop at the world’s loneliest looking ice cream stand and he brushes off her request to pay for it.

“What kind of date would I be?” He muses breaking off a piece of his waffle bowl and popping it in his mouth. 

“A fair one.”

“It’s fair if I can afford it, relax, it’s fine.”

Beyoncé drowns her ice cream in chocolate sauce and with it, her protests. “Where to next?”

He finishes piling on sprinkles and starts towards his car, glancing up at the sun that’s slowly starting to set. “There’s a big ass pool at my hotel, you like to swim?”

She does and she’s not supposed to because she has to sing in a little over 48 hours. “Why not?”

The hotel her family was staying in had impressed her just due to the lack of rats. His, she was sure could fit two holiday inns inside.  It wrapped around itself so that you could overlook the foyer and the indoor pool, that was currently occupied by tan elderly people,

“So what does your family do?” She asks while the elevator takes them up and alarming amount of floors.

 “Boring shit.”

“Like?”

“Investing, advising people about their money, making me do the same thing.”

“What do you want to do?” 

“I used to want my own band.”

 “You’ve got the looks for it.”

“It’s not without trying.”

“Yeah?”

“Girls like musicians.”

She follows him to the hotel room that he doesn’t need to share with a sibling the way she does.

 He points out the window. “There’s the other pool.”

It’s crowded too and Beyoncé isn’t one to get squeamish over soaking in the same water with other people but she really wants Jordan to herself.

“You mind if we stay in and cool off for a minute.”

“I’ll do you one better.” He lifts her, throwing her over his shoulder, walking them to the shower and cutting on the cold water. “You wanna take off your jewelry?”

She glances around, noting that this bathroom is bigger than her actual bedroom and starts unhooking her earrings. “Put me down for a minute.” 

He bends at the knee until her feet touch the ground and she kicks off her sandals, and loses her shirt.

“Ready?” 

“Almost.” She wiggles out of her shorts and sticks her hand inside the shower trying to prepare herself for the temperature. “Now I am.” 

“Good.” Jordan lifts her by her thighs this time and holds her under the stream of water. 

“Fuck, that’s freezing.”

 “You wanna get out?”

“Gimme a minute.”

 She realizes that her mother will kill her when she finds out she got her hair wet and can’t bring herself to care. Instead she clings to him, arms around his neck, his chest pressing against her and makes an ordeal of catching his lips in a slow kiss. The way people in movies kiss, with passion and want, she doesn’t have to wonder how that feels anymore and that’s gratifying.

He digs his fingers in the flesh of her ass and she knows she should attempt to seem demure but her body isn’t following her moral compass. “I’m cold, I wanna get out.” She says, a whisper more than anything.

He hears, wrapping a towel around her before trekking out to the bed. It’s more comfortable than he one at her hotel and definitely better than the one she has at home. She feels bad about how wet the sheets are getting but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

 “I got your ears wet.” 

“Huh,” she glances up remembering the Minnie ears still in her hair and sits them on his nightstand,. “They’ll dry.”

He hovers over her kissing her stomach and below the soaked underwiring of her bra, he cups the side of her face in his palm and tenderly kisses her neck 

“Would it be too cheesy if I said I get how you’re Miss Houston?”

“I’d accept it.”

“God, you’re hot.” He says to himself, pressing his hips against hers, his hard on pushing against the inside of her thigh.

She tries to think of something a woman who’s more sexually confident would do because she knows she can’t just lie there. She places her hands on his chest and slides them down past his abdomen. He’s not terribly built, or athletic, in the middle of lean and full. He has cute nipples, she licks one and it makes him swallow hard.

He kisses down her chest and stomach and she stops him before she can lose her will to refuse him. “I can’t.”

“We don’t have to.” He sits up and pushes her hair behind her ear.

 “I’m not opposed to everything.” There’s still a few things she can think of to do that won’t make her feel too loose.

“You smoke? You don’t seem like the type but I’m asking.”

No, but she can’t say that. She’ll look like a child and that’s the opposite of what she wants. “Smoke what?” She asks that like it matters or as if she has a preference.

“Weed. I don’t share cigarettes, babe.”

“Why not?”

He sits up and goes into the drawer of his nightstand. “I don’t wanna be responsible for anyone’s bad health but my own.” He takes a lighter to an unfinished joint and she comes up with an excuse for why she can’t accept it directly when he holds it out to her.

“I have to sing.”

“I can shotgun you if you want.”

 This puts her in a pickle, she knows that she doesn’t understand in the slightest bit how to do that and she knows she doesn’t want him to know. “Once won’t hurt”

She takes it from him and places it between her lips, sucking in and holding it until she feels like she may near-choke to death. She does, a few times into her arm but manages not to look completely dumb.

Jordan collapses next to her and entangles his free hand with hers. His pupils blown, surrounded by icy blue irises.  He’s a boy she’d put a poster of on her wall, probably smarter than the guys she has up there now.

“Where’s this guitar pick?”

His gets up to dig in his suitcase and brings over a denim jacket, adorned with various pins and buttons. Most of them for bands and odd slogans and under a Star Wars button is a guitar pick with a small hole drilled through it.

“You get a priceless item from a famous person and the first thing you do is put a hole in it?”

 “Or else I’d lose it.” His words are slurred because he’s trying to hold the joint between his lips. 

“How do I know it’s from him?”

 “I got it signed.” 

She lifts it up and on the underside, she can see barely legible writing. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He laughs and gets back in bed and they snuggle up close. “I  don’t remember you telling me what it is that you wanna do.”

“You never asked.”

“I wanna know.”

She sighs, wistfully. “If I knew I’d tell you. I’m going off to college soon and it’s a mystery what it is I’m going for.”

“What are you good at?”

 “Waving. Turning.”

“You said you sing.”

“A little.”

He nudges her. “Wanna sing me something?”

“I’d sound awful right now.” Due to nerves more than anything.

 Jordan seems too sleepy to protest, runs his fingers down her spine and under the hooks of her bra.

“You can take it off if you want to.”

He goes about it a different way, pulling down the straps and then sliding the whole thing to her ribs. There’s a hesitant moment before she flicks him in the forehead. “It’s a boob.”

“I know I’ve seen ‘em before.”

“You don’t act like it.”

“I’m being polite.”

 She touches her nose to his. “You stare. That’s not very polite.” 

“You couldn’t see me staring if you weren’t staring back.” His eyes widen and she matches him then they’re taking turns pulling weird faces at each other between giggles. 

“I can cross one eye.” Beyoncé doesn’t waste time waiting to demonstrate and he can’t follow her without blinking.

“It’s harder than it looks.” He lays back against the pillows and pulls her against his chest.

“That should be your talent.”

“Wait until I show you what I can do with my ears.”

Jordan reaches over for the phone and hands her the menu tucked under it. “We should eat something.” 

It’s not a complicated menu, she’s tried everything on it before but since today she’s opting for change she’s picking what’s most expensive. “I want steak.”

 He nods, holding the phone to his ear. “How do you want it cooked?”

She wonders how he got into college asking dumb questions like that. “In a kitchen?”

He snorts, at himself she assumes, and finishes ordering. She crawls off of him and goes through his luggage looking for a shirt, they’ve all been torn or cropped and she notes that rich people don’t value their belongings. She takes a pair of shorts to cover her bottom half and keeps digging just because he doesn’t look like he cares and you can tell a lot about people by snooping.

Tucked into the lining of his suitcase she hears rustling plastic, he props himself up on his elbow. “Find anything?”

“What are these?” She holds up the tiny bag of pills.

“Quaaludes. You don’t wanna try it.”

 “Maybe, I do.” He raises an eyebrow and she adjusts, “I don’t but you didn’t know that.”

“Wanna try half.”

 She’s a smart girl, she thinks, sheltered maybe and lord knows if Tina catches onto where she really is she won’t be trying anything new for a long time. “Sure.”

Jordan ashes out his joint on the dresser and gets a bottle of water from the fridge. “Take it the same way you’d take Advil.”

She downs it before she can change her mind about it and she’s proud of herself for being so brave. He takes the other half and a whole one and she never wants to be that brave.

 “You okay?” 

“I’m great.”

 

She says that and a couple hours later she’s feeling better, standing on the balcony, the nighttime breeze grazing her skin, a small lizard resting on her foot before trekking away.

 Jordan can play the piano and he wants to hear her sing but she won’t do it acapella. If you’re rich enough, they’ll bring anything to your room. It’s too short notice for a grand piano but he can do just fine with a keyboard. The song she has to rehearse, he’s never heard so she describes how the backing music sounds and he catches on pretty quit.

 “How are you gonna tell if I’m doing good if you’ve never heard it?”

 “You’re stalling.”

She rolls her eyes while he starts playing the intro to ‘I Still Believe’ and she walks in the way she does during pageants, grabs a bottle of sunscreen to use in place of a microphone. She tosses her hair around pointing at him every time the lyrics refer to ‘you and me’. It’s more passion-filled than what she can do in the actual pageant but tons more fun.

He stops playing a little before the end and grabs her by the hips. “You’re amazing you know that?”

“Wanna drop out of Harvard and start a duo with me?”

He plays the opening chords of ‘Head Over Heels’. “We could do it.

 Then they’re sharing the sunscreen bottle harmonize in the wrong key but it doesn’t matter how it sounds because it feels so good to do it.  His phone rings and it’s probably a noise complaint but he can’t be moved to pick it up. He pushes her up and down the hall on the serving cart he’d paid the waiter to leave behind and if she was a more poetic person she’d say it was symbolic but what came to her in the moment was sufficient.

 

“I feel like I might throw up.”

 

Another hour passes and the indoor pool is less packed, in fact it’s empty and it should stay that way seeing as it’s closed. Yet, Jordan slips in the manager a few folded hundreds and then they’re free to do what they want. It’s thrilling watching him control the world around him with  just confidence, money and only about half his brain functioning at the moment.

 

Still in their clothes, they swim and kiss until they’re too tired to do it anymore. Then they’re letting they’re dangling their legs underwater volunteering childhood memories.

 

“When I’d come home for the summer, I would be alone most of the time. My dad works, my mom would go on solo vacation and my sisters didn’t wanna spend all their time with me so I’d be in the house.” Jordan says, eyes gazing at the stars through glass enclosure over them.

 

“No friends?”

 

“Not really, I was gone all the time but I was a loner anyways.”

 

“That’s kind of how it was with me but I was really close with my family.” She misses that feeling. “I guess I’m lucky that way.”

 

“I’m not unlucky, I just don’t have a lot of warm moments with the people that raised me.”

 

“What about in general?”

 

He hums, under his breath,“The best summer I had was when I was 16 and I got bored enough to restore a car.”

 

She imagines him bending over under a car hood, working away, a picturesque smudge of grease on his forehead. “It sounds therapeutic.”

 

He nods, squinting because he’s thinking hard. “I think always liked building things with my hands.”

 

She places her hand over his, intertwining their fingers.  She starts feeling dreadful about saying goodbye and it grows while they gather up her belongings, then it lasts for the drive back to her hotel. The roof pulled down and the sun just beginning to rise again, it all feels like an end. If the drive away, was a ship sailing to freedom the ride back is a prison van transporting her to her certain doom.

 

They sit in the parking lot, it’s still too dark to see much of anything but Jordan uses the street light to look for the receipt they’d gotten from the ice cream stand and then writes his number across the back. “I meant what I said earlier, about you calling me if you wanna see New York? At least until the fall.”

 

She never really felt the desire to leave the state before but she can’t turn down seeing him again. “I could call you just because.”

 

“I was hoping you would.”

 

“How do I know this isn’t  a bullshit number you’re just giving out so I won’t feel bad.”  Her words slur the slightest bit, because she’s tired, coming down from a high took the wind out of you.

 

“Cause I really, really, like you.”

 

He pushes his seat back and trails a finger down the bridge of her nose, her cupid’s bow and across the dip of her chin.

 

She kisses him again, feelings hysterical because she may cry. Could you get separation anxiety for someone you just met? It feels like he senses it in her, caressing the side of her face and then her arm.  Her eyes get wet with tears that she can’t blink away. He kisses her neck, the mole by her collarbone. Her hips lift up and she tries to climb in his lap but he extends himself over the armrest instead.

 

He undoes the button of her shorts and uses his thumb and the side of his finger to stroke at her through her underwear until she’s soaking through the thin material and mewling into his ear.

 

He climbs over all the way, pushing her legs up into her seat and kneeling in front of it, uncomfortably but not caring. She thought he had dull eyes before, but they’re intense from where she’s sitting now.

 

“Is this okay?”

 

She nods, swallowing but her mouth is dry. “You’re fine.”

 

Her shorts come down and so do her panties, replaced by his open mouth, tongue lapping at her clit. It shocks her, his hands gripping her backside and holding her in place so she cant’t wiggle away when the feeling gets too strong.

 

She feels everything, the humidity surrounding them, the leather of the seat getting slicker every time she rocked against it.

She feels him too, the cool metal of his earrings against her thighs, his breath against her skin, the callouses that had been etched into his skin by years of use, him groaning between licking and sucking.  He works her over until she’s whimpering and trembling and before she can come down from it he adds his fingers. She comes hard enough for it to hurt, leaving his forearm wet with her release and her feeling embarrassed.

 

She starts drying his seat furiously with the end of her shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Jordan laughs, licking at his chin, in a way that looks depraved and makes her lower abdomen tighten again. “That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

 

Beyoncé’s not yet back in her right mind to pretend she knew that it was. “Oh.”

 

The sun is visible and it paints a the sky a strange mixture of purple and orange. He reaches his dryer hand into his pocket and pulls out the guitar pick attached to a safety pin. “I want you to hold onto it for me.”

  
“I can’t. It’s special.”

 

“I could get another one if I tried real hard.”

 

“If I lose it you’ll be really mad at me.”

 

He pins it to her shirt. “Now you can’t.”

 

She turns it over to see the autograph. “I don’t have anything to give you.”

 

“You left your-” He gestures about his head in the shape of mouse ears. “-on my dresser and I let you because I’m a bad person who needs something to remember you by.”

 

“They’re not signed by Daryl Hall.”

 

“You wore ‘em and once we start our little duo, that’ll be worth more than his autograph any day.”

 

She throws her arms around him. “I’m not gonna be able to listen to them the same again ‘cause I’ll miss you too much.”

 

“There’s a song for that.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

He bobs his head, playfully singing in falsetto, “ _Wait for meee, pleeaase, wait for meeee, alright,  I guess that’s more than III should ask.”_ It’s a shitty sped up version but it makes her heart swell, nonetheless.

 

“I have to get inside.” It already aches.

 

He kisses her one last time. “Could you send my sister out here?”

 

“Holy, shit we forgot her.” She laughs, duck-like and loud.

 

“She won’t be mad at you, she’ll be mad at me.”

 

Beyoncé races up the stairwell to get to her floor and manages to slip into her room without her mother popping out like Freddy Krueger. Solange is still awake, Jordan’s sister sitting between her legs getting her hair braided while they watch the television on low volume.

“Your brother is downstairs.”

 

“Thanks,” She hugs Solange, “I’m gonna kill him.”

 

Beyoncé sees her off down the stairwell and then speeds back to her room to look out the window in hopes of seeing Jordan one last time.

His car rolls by and then stops, circling around before his window rolls down and he sticks his head out. She pushes open the heavy glass and blows him a kiss goodbye.

 

“Don’t you forget to call me, babe.”

 

She could guarantee that she wouldn’t. Her sister taps her on the shoulder.

 

“You’re telling me everything.”

* * *

 

Beyoncé, as hard as she tries, can’t picture them meeting any other way and yeah, she’d like to have a more romantic story than I met him at a bar and did ecstasy the first night but it’s perfect in their own way.

She imagines though, that no matter how they start off, they’d end up doing the same thing. Watching television, sharing oreos, arguing over his disdain for her puppy, Buttercup.

“I’d love you too, Jordy."

 

**Author's Note:**

> RORO.........UR MY HEART-UH


End file.
